


Of Buckets and Weddings

by lathalea



Series: Dwarf Tales [6]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blue Mountains | Ered Luin, Broadbeam Family Feels, Broadbeams, Dwarves, Elven names are a real menace, Gossip, Is Dwalin jealous?, Meddling Dwarven Matrons, Multi, Old Hags, Other, Thráin loves bling, Wedding Fluff, Weddings, Winter wedding, Yule, longbeards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27934957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lathalea/pseuds/lathalea
Summary: Shush! Don’t you know we are at a wedding? Or should I sayThe Weddingbecause royal weddings don’t happen that often.Princess Dís is getting married to my great-grandson Víli and I couldn’t be happier! There is nothing better than a winter wedding, believe me. What? I can’t hear you. Drat! I lost my hearing trumpet again!
Relationships: Dís/Dís's Husband
Series: Dwarf Tales [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838215
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10
Collections: Have A Happy Hobbit Holiday 2020





	Of Buckets and Weddings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raiyana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/gifts).



> This story is precisely like a dwarven Yule cake: sweet, fluffy and full of raisins.
> 
> It is my "Have A Happy Hobbit Holiday 2020" gift for the talented **raiyana**. It contains a few nods towards her wonderful ficverse but you will find some of my headcanons as well. I told you, it is full of raisins :) Bon appetit!

The rumors of me being as old as Durin himself are vastly exaggerated.

Obviously I’m much older.

Of course I am jesting, Anah! I am simply checking whether you’re dozing off again. The wedding ceremony is about to start, for Mahal’s sake, you cannot sleep through your own grand-niece’s, twice removed (or was it thrice removed?), wedding vows!

No, I will not wake you up when all this nonsense is over! I don’t care if they all look the same to you. There is no better time for a wedding than Yule. All the fresh, crisp white snow around… And look at our bride’s lovely dress… What? Yes, I know, what with your age you’ve probably seen all the weddings on Arda by now, including Gandalf‘s wedding. How do you mean you don’t remember?! I tell you, you have been there! What? Wait, let me get my hearing trumpet. Ah, there it is.

That’s better. What were you saying? How on earth should I know whom Tharkûn* was marrying in Rivendell? I wasn’t there — you were, along with the whole delegation of Erebor! Wasn’t it that elven lady Galaliel or whatever her name was? What? She has a different spouse? A wife or a husband? Uh-huh. And what might his name be? WHAT?! How can an elf be called “Porno”?! Ah, Teleporno*... Never heard of him. Those pointy-eared tree bark munchers and their ridiculous names. No matter.

Where was I…? Ah, yes. So, while we’re waiting for our dear boy Thráin to… Yes, yes, of course, King Thráin, who else! He is such a fine young Dwarf. Yes, I am aware he is 190 years old! I remember when he was but a pebble in his leading strings. Stop interrupting me, Anah, it is my story to tell! Yes, I was getting to that.

Aaaaah, here she comes! Dís, our bride. Just look at her! That smile! That hair! And the dress sparkling with diamonds! The jewels! A small fortune, if you ask me, but you know Thráin, he likes the bling. Such a showoff. But have you seen that pendant around her neck? Don’t you see? A double ornamented square with three sapphires on it! Very tasteful. Frís tells me our bride’s brother made it especially for her. Such a caring family. But anyway, just look at Dís! She is breathtaking, isn’t she? And I spotted her first! Such a lovely, sweet girl. A bit on the shy side, if you ask me, but nobody is perfect. I remember the first time I saw her as if it was today. 

It all started when Bombur, my youngest great-grandson, told me that she would stop by his stall quite often. Dís was so very fond of his mince pies, you know. And she still is. What? How should I know what exactly is in that pie filling? Ask him yourself!

So, one day Bofur was there by the pie stall as well and Dís asked him to make a birthday gift for Thorin. What? I said THO-RIN! Yes, the one with the dark wavy locks. Yes, our dear bride’s brother. The majestic one. The one your great-grandson is so enamored with. I know. Yes, and your great-granddaughter too. Look, can we get back to me recounting the story of my greatest matchmaking triumph? Thank you. Anyway, Dís started visiting Bofur’s carpentry workshop to discuss the design for that gift. No, I don’t remember what the gift was, I don’t give a cave bat’s ass about it!

Now, you must place yourself in my position, dear Anah. I have only my great-grandchildren’s good in mind, you know it yourself. There I was, sitting at the window and pondering: “Dís is a fine lass of age and, what’s more important, she is unspoken for. And I have four great-grandsons to think of.” So I started doing the thinking: Bofur only has his eyes for that rascal Nori these days. Those two are so adorable together! Inseparable like a goat and a cabbage. What? No, don’t make me tell you which one is the goat. Moving on.

And where was I… Right, my great-grandsons. Then there is Bifur who is still training to become a warrior so it is at least ten years before he can think of courting, let alone marrying anyone. And Bombur’s beard is barely out. He is too young. Are you awake still? Perfect. 

So where did that leave me when I was sitting that day at the window and noticing that my fourth great-grandson was returning home from the night shift in the mines? Yes, Víli IS my great-grandson if I say so! May I remind you, He is the son of my grandson’s wife’s sister, so he is family. His parents died in an accident when he was but a pebble and dear Sigrdrífa, yes, that’s my grandson’s wife, well, she took him in, of course. Raised him together with Bofur and Bombur. Unfortunately, she had a fourth male to care for, my own grandson, Vidbjorn, bless her patience. He is such a man-child! What a shame Vidbjorn is the living image of my late husband, may Mahal grant his spirit endless peace. My dearest Hegbjorn was a great warrior and, oh, the things he would do in our marital bed... Ahem. Stop sniggering, Anah! Unfortunately, he was not the brightest jewel in the king’s crown, if you know what I mean. He barely had a mind for numbers and don’t even get me started on his non-existent negotiation skills! Even a babe could trick my Hegbjorn out of his coin purse. It happened once, in fact… but that is a completely different story. 

I will let you in on a secret. I’m quite happy that I managed to match the young Vidbjorn with Sigrdrífa. She is quite a catch, although when it came to their marriage contract, her great aunt haggled like a used horse cart salesman. But it was worth it in the end. I could not have wished for a better granddaughter-in-law. I sometimes wished I had a clever granddaughter like her. Perhaps one of my great-grandsons will sire a daughter one day. I have had enough of dim-witted male progeny!

And speaking of great-grandsons. My dear Víli. A truly handsome boy, and such a skill with a mattock! He seems to have an unusually strong stone sense, too. He always finds his way to the richest veins of the precious ores and he has never lost his way in a mine, even in unfamiliar surroundings. Not even once. He says the stone  _ talks _ to him. You remember the old tales, I’m sure, so you know what it means, Anah. It has been ages since such talent manifested itself in a dwarf here in Ered Luin. Víli is going to become one of the best Master Miners one day, mark my words. 

Now you understand I couldn’t just sit idly by and wait for him to spend his life alone or with a useless partner. We are Broadbeams of respectable lineage. “Find a diamond in the rough” — that’s our motto. Víli is such a diamond and you know which dwarven house has a great fondness for white gems? On Kaminzabdûna’s* firm tits, wake up, woman! No, not the Stonefoots, who cares about some faraway clans from the East. I’m talking about Sigin-tarâg*, the Durin’s Folk!

That’s where Dís appears on the scene, the apple of her father’s eye. After Bombur mentioned her visits, it happened, purely by accident, of course, that I met her several times and I liked what I saw.

Back to the main events before you nod off completely. I’m sitting by the window, pretending to knit… Yes, I know, I know, I’m a lousy knitter, so what?! Anyway. Víli is returning home, walking from the right, whistling a happy tune, and Dís is just walking from the left, out of Bofur’s workshop. They are going to pass each other any moment now. This is when I say to myself: Bersa, my dear girl, now is the time. So I look through the window at those innocent youngsters that have not met each other before and have no clue that their lives are going to change from now on and what happens next? Imagine, Anah, that I was horrified to see that  _ someone _ opened a window and threw a bucketful of ice-cold water on them both, soaking those poor dears thoroughly! And I swear I have no idea who it was! So thoughtless! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that it was one of the new maids forgetting that we have a working plumbing system. By the way, you can’t imagine what lifting a heavy bucket like that does to the arthritic fingers of an elderly person… I’m guessing, of course, because how would I know? I was simply sitting in my favorite chair, knitting innocently, when this outrage happened. We later found that empty bucket hidden behind my chair. What was that bucket doing in my parlour, you are asking? I wonder… No, Anah, I have not the slightest idea. Not a clue. Perhaps it was magic? Who knows. What do you mean you don’t believe me?

Listen, do you want to know what happened next or not? Good. From what I gathered, because I wasn’t looking through the window, of course, I’m not so stupid as to incriminate myself, not that I did anything wrong, my dear great-grandson Víli acted like a gallant gentledwarf. It was a cold winter day, just like today, so he couldn’t risk the health of our lovely princess Dís. He took her inside and placed her by a fireplace, under a generous heap of blankets. I made sure she had the chance to change into dry clothes in private and she just couldn’t say no when I invited her to stay with us for a lengthy dinner. From that point onward, I didn’t even have to lift even a finger. You know Víli and his chivalrous streak. He blamed himself for not being fast enough to shield a lady like her from this misadventure and proceeded to pamper her in every way possible. Yes, exactly the way your Farin pampered you. No, there weren’t any serenades involved this time. Thank Mahal for that, your Farin was a horrible singer. He was! You said it yourself that you had to stuff cheese into your ears every night to get some sleep!

Long story short, Víli walked her home like the honourable dwarf he is. The dear boy must have done quite an impression on her because Dís would start visiting us more and more often, even after Bofur finished making that gift for her brother. How do you mean what gift? Don’t you remember…? Nevermind, forget I said anything… Although you probably just did. Anyway, Víli kept on taking the night shifts in the mines so they would spend the evenings together. He spoke to me about watching beautiful sunsets and counting the first stars in the night sky with Dís, but we both know what it means, right? Yes, I thought that you would remember what the young couples really do under the starry skies. But who was I to stop them? They were both of age! And so much in love! You know that I have a soft heart… No, I haven’t meant “a shrewd heart”!

How do you mean “what happened next”, Anah? Mahal, your mind is like a wheel of cheese attacked by a rabid mine rat. Full of holes. Whose wedding are we at right now? No, it is not Thrór’s wedding! Dís and Víli are getting married today after a customary year of proper courting. Well, a bit less than a year but who would have bothered counting. It’s been a while since we had a royal wedding.

I bet Thráin had his own plans for marrying off his only daughter with a political profit in mind, but he couldn’t say no to his little Dís in love, could he? I had a talk with him and he had the audacity to tell me— me, Bersa, the daughter of Hallfrídr — that he considered this match to be a “misalliance”! Pah! I swear, Anah, I wished I had that heavy bucket in my hands again to clear that frown off his haughty face. Why “again”? Because… because I had to carry the bucket out from my parlour, that is precisely why!

My grand matchmaking plan is anything but a “misalliance” as he put it. The joining of our houses might be one of the smartest ideas he’d ever taken part in. The line of Durin needs the support of Broadbeams. Thráin is just too stuck in the old ways to see it. He kept on wagging his tongue to the tune of his overgrown male ego. Blah, blah, blah, the royal line of Erebor, a hurried marriage with a commoner, a scandal, blah, blah, blah. Stubborn as a mule, Thráin is, but he is going to snap out of it soon, just wait and see. He will just have to finally notice the growing roundness of his daughter’s figure and then connect the dots. Yes, Anah, we can both snigger now to our hearts’ content. It seems that Dís and Víli have been quite busy. So what if their firstborn comes to the world a few months sooner than expected after the wedding? Those things do happen, right? By Mahal’s fecund loins, we are in dire need for more babies here!

  
Of course our dear Longbeard king (I still see him as that chubby little pebble in his leading strings, mind you) had The Talk with his future son in law. From what Víli says, there was a lot of fatherly grunting involved. Plus some unsubstantiated threats that revolved around removing some of Víli’s crucial body parts if he were to make Dís unhappy in the slightest way. I wish I could have seen it. It had to be such a lovely male bonding moment between these two… A truly touching scene. Where is my handkerchief...? I need to wipe my nose… Nevermind, I’ll use your scarf, it is so ugly, no one will notice anyway. No, I was just mumbling to myself, it was nothing. Nothing of any consequence.

Look, Anah! There! There he comes, my great-grandson! Víli! He looks quite dashing with his golden mane and that braided moustache, wouldn’t you agree? Yes, of course! His wedding clothes were made by none other than that talented tailor, Dori! The clothes that come out of their workshop are quite the fashion these days. Yes, but it was worth every coin. It would not do if we couldn’t show that dear Víli is truly worthy of the Princess of Erebor. We’re not royalty perhaps, but we have our pride… What? Ah, yes, the music! Very traditional. Lovely, isn’t it? The same hymn played at my wedding. No, it was not composed by the Goblin King, Anah! It is an ancient tune that… Yes, my ear trumpet works well, thank you very much!

Finally! They are joining hands! And now it’s time for their marriage braids. By Mahal’s long mithril hammer! Are you seeing this? The sun is shining! And all this snow swirling in the air! You are right, my dear Anah, it is like diamonds falling from the sky. You are a poet, I swear. Such a great omen for Dís and Víli’s wedding. I’m all teary-eyed! Here, let me hug you! Where is your scarf, by the way?

Hmm. I wonder why that young warrior looks so sour. That tall one, on the left, with a wide strip of dark hair on top of his head and a tattooed forehead. Ah, yes, you are right, my dear, it is young Dwalin, son of Fundin. Curious. His cousin, the sister of his best friend is getting married and yet he is frowning... Whoops, sorry, it was my belly. I hope Thráin finishes his lengthy speech soon, I’m famished. I wonder if they are going to serve the honey-baked apples. Oh? Is there really a smell of mulled wine in the air? No, my nose is completely stuffed up. No, I haven't found my handkerchief yet. Ah, there is your scarf, I see! Why are you putting it away? 

What? No, it shouldn’t be much longer now. Thráin likes the sound of his own voice, but he is bound to notice all the yawning any moment now. It reminds me of a story I once heard...

What are you saying? Oh great, now I have snow in my ear trumpet. How do you mean whose wedding we’re at? Have you forgotten again, Anah? No, I told you already, it is not Gandalf’s wedding! Mahal, give me strength! Do you even remember what day it is? No, Tharkûn* did not marry Lord Elrond! Are you even sure that the grey wizard really married? I didn’t think so either. Wait, so whose wedding were you at in Rivendell? What? Who on earth is Saruman?

“Bersa?”

“What is it, Anah?”

“Shut up. You talk too much.”

**Author's Note:**

> \---  
> * Tharkûn [Khuzdul] - Gandalf  
> * Teleporno - Celeborn’s original Telerin name (meaning "Silver-tall") before it was “Sindarized”. Yes, really.  
> * Kaminzabdûna [Khuzdul] - Yavanna  
> * Sigin-tarâg [Khuzdul] - the Longbeards, Durin’s Folk  
> \---
> 
> Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it, let me know! 
> 
> When you're done, please take a moment to check out [rayiana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana)'s works here on AO3.
> 
> Happy Holidays! ❤️


End file.
